The Haunting Forget-Me-Nots
by TheUltimateBibliophile
Summary: Their laughter would once ring through the halls, their cries echo joyfully. The laughter still rings today, but with a bitter touch, and their cries still echo, but in silence.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Infernal Devices, or else we would have a movie on it with Douglas Booth as Will. Oh, and I'd be raking in millions.**

He first saw her when he was thirteen.

It was his second Christmas ball at the Institute. It wasn't all too much different from the first one- girls fluttering around in vibrant dresses under the watchful eyes of their mothers, men scattered in groups all over, some solemn, some raucous, and boys, like him, skulking around, grimacing in the itchy evening clothes they had been wrestled into. The same melodies could be heard from the spinet, and the same large Christmas tree loomed over them, colorful yet intimidating in its sheer enormity.

Well, perhaps the gratifying sound of Gabriel Lightwood's arm being snapped was missing.

He felt a smirk creep onto his face, which he promptly hid into his mug of eggnog when Charlotte's gaze flickered toward him. _Darn._ Somehow she always knew when he was up to something. He shot her a wide-eyed look over the rim, trying to look as angelic as Jem did.

It must have worked, for she visibly melted and smiled, but his thoughts had sobered. Jem was upstairs and in bed, ill as usual. He had wanted to sit by his side, and Charlotte had almost let him, apprehensive of an encore last year's Yule debacle. But she was torn between his wishes and the fierce desire to show Benedict that they did not fear him, and, in the end, she cajoled him into coming. Jem's condition wasn't that poor, after all- he wasn't coughing blood or even feverish, simply exhausted.

It was while mulling over these thoughts that he walked into one of the ornate pillars. He instantly righted himself, swearing at the offending column, when his gaze fell on her.

She was sitting demurely on a divan, her spine straight, chin parallel to the floor and hands folded neatly. Nothing about her posture suggested that she was anything but a dainty little lady, like Jessamine. She wasn't nearly as pretty as Jessamine, though, with a bony figure, drab brown hair and a pallid complexion. He felt his lip curl contemptuously and he began to turn away.

That was until she raised her own eyes to his, and he felt his feet glue themselves to the floor. Large and bright blue, like forget-me-nots, they seemed entirely too large for her waif-like face. The pure mischief swirling in them belied her unassuming demeanor; they simply radiated the desire for the forbidden. It was a glance so magnetic that he found himself wondering if she was part-faerie, even if she wasn't attractive enough.

She cocked her head to the side pleasantly, seemingly unaware of her effect on him. Then, as he continued to stare at her, she nodded upwards.

Slightly puzzled, he raised his eyes, which immediately widened at the sight. Balanced precariously on the arms of the parlor's chandelier were dozens of baked goods- pies, cupcakes, rolls, pastries and the Angel knew what else. Everyone had been so absorbed by the Christmas tree that the whole set-up had gone unnoticed. He snapped his head back towards the girl, just as she gave him an infinitesimal wink.

Before he could react, a creaking sound began to be heard from above. All the guests looked upwards, and so did he, although he was fairly certain he knew what was happening.

The chandelier was rotating, ever so slowly, as if it was being unscrewed. There were a few shouts heard as people began to realize the contents placed on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Charlotte rushing up, bewildered and unsure.

Then it stopped rotating all of a sudden. The assortments stayed stationary, and there were sighs of relief heard. They were followed by a rumbling voice from nowhere.

"THE COW SAYS MOO."

And then the chandelier tipped, and the baked goods tumbled off. They did not simply fall as expected, but pelted themselves at a horrified Gabriel Lightwood.

The assault lasted for well over a minute. By the time that older Shadowhunters descended on him with their steles, he had been pummeled enough to be covered with frosting and crumbs of nearly every flavor. When the treats were finally scattered around on the floor, he collapsed right into the arms of his father and began to bawl like a little girl.

He felt himself let out a hoot of laughter upon seeing the pathetic condition of his arch-enemy. Benedict's evident disgust as he pushed his son off himself to glare down at his ruined attire only served to intensify it. Making no show of concealing his mirth, he looked back to the divan- but it was empty.

She had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

**I AM BACK AND VERY MUCH ALIVE! To be honest, I wasn't quite satisfied with the first chappie, so I spent months agonizing over it and critiquing every single word. I finally decided to woman up and post the next one. I hope you enjoy. Read and Review! Reviews are cookies!**

 **Disclaimer: The Infernal Devices, regrettably, is not mine. All rights go to Cassandra Clare. I'm just playing around.**

The next time he saw her, he was fourteen.

He watched as the many members of the London Enclave descended at the funeral of her father. Even in the sea of white surrounding her, she stood out, her eerie stillness at odds with the bustle around her. She resembled a wraith in her too-large white dress; the red mourning Marks were like slashes on her pale skin. She did not look at him, or anybody, seemingly preoccupied with the spires of a church in the distance.

She did not look at him as they set the body on the funeral pyre, as they lit it, as they scattered her father's ashes in the Silent City. She simply stood there, her face an inscrutable mask and her thin hands fisted in the folds of her dress. He knew he should look away, that Charlotte would chide him for staring at one of the bereaved, but, for her, propriety be damned.

He was unsure as to why he felt so. It was a febrile desire, one that alarmed him to no extent. He was well-aware of Jem's curious glances between the two of them- moot, since she had chosen to ignore him. With a herculean effort, he turned his gaze away from her and fixed it resolutely on the back of the very bald head of the Shadowhunter in front of him. _By the Angel, it was shiny._

It was when the funeral was complete and the party started dispersing that she caught his eye. Her eyes weren't red-rimmed as he had expected; they shone a clear blue. But the orbs that had once glowed with the freedom of the skies, now seemed like bottomless oceans, oceans that she was drowning in herself. That look of utter, absolute desolation tightened his chest until he couldn't breathe.

It was like looking in a mirror.

She held his gaze for a few minutes, searching for something. He never knew what she was looking for, or if she found it, for in that moment, Charlotte placed a hand on his arm to ask him if he was feeling unwell. He had been too docile for too long, after all.

He shrugged her off without a comment. By now, she had begun walking away, escorted by a taller boy of about seventeen. Her neck was bent ever so slightly, drooping in an odd display of resignation. For some reason, it disappointed him. She oughtn't submit so easily.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin in a haughty tilt. Without deigning anyone a second glance, she swept away, her chaperone hurrying to keep up with her suddenly swift pace. A petal fluttered out of the white blossoms woven in her hair and landed in the grass.

He watched as the wind blew it away.


	3. Chapter 3

**We're entering the TID timeline now! This chapter is set a week after the ending of Clockwork Prince, meaning a certain blue-eyed Welshman now knows that his 'curse' was a sham and can care again. Sadly, that also means Tessa is well and engaged to Jem and has rejected Will. Sigh…**

 **OH, AND SHOUTOUT TO THIS STORY'S VERY FIRST FOLLOWER, reachingtheriver!**

 **Hope you enjoy the story! Read and Review!**

 **Disclaimer: I am not about to commit identity theft by claiming I'm Cassie Clare and that I own TID.**

It would be three years before he saw her again.

Considering the number of things that occurred in that period, it was an age. It all started with the arrival of Tessa, beautiful, mesmerizing Tessa, Tessa who lit a fire in his veins and who made his body thrum with anticipation. Tessa, who brought peace to his damaged soul. Tessa, whose every breath was more precious to him than the world.

Tessa, who was pledged to his blood-brother. Tessa, who he could never have.

Then came the entire business of the Magister, Nate's betrayal, Benedict Lightworm's claim on the Institute, and the fight where they- he- almost lost Tessa. And in the course of time, there was a change in the occupants of the Institute, with the arrival of Bridget and Cyril to replace Agatha and Thomas, Jessamine's being carted off to the Silent City, and the switching of sides by Gideon. To top it all off, his little sister had to land on the doorstep of the Institute, demanding ingress. Now he had the additional burden of warding off her attempts at making him write home. She didn't understand his reasons for staying- Jem.

His days were exhausting, his nights sleepless. Conflicting emotions tore at him, ripping into him until he couldn't think over the pain. He loved Tessa and would kill for her, but she belonged to the one he would die for. He loved Cecily and was proud to see her train, but she was his baby sister and he wanted her far away from this bloodshed, tucked away in the rolling slopes of their homeland.

In the midst of such a quagmire, he had scarcely thought of her. She had been conspicuously absent at the past few Yuletide festivities, and he had been taken aback at the surge of disappointment in his chest each instance. _He didn't even know her, for crying out loud!_ Why was it that she had such an irresistible pull on his heart? He was unable to unravel this mystery, no matter how hard he tried.

Regardless, it wasn't as if he actively thought of her. She was always in the back of his mind, fluttering, just out of reach, mocking him with those impossibly blue eyes. There were even times that he drifted off while reading and saw her in his mind's eye, but they were rare and in-between. So, it would suffice to say that when she stepped through the doors of the Institute, complete with bag and baggage, there were none more surprised than he.

Dimly, he recollected Charlotte mentioning something over dinner about a girl who would be staying at the Institute for a few months. He hadn't been paying attention; he seldom did anyway. _Another newcomer at the Institute, hoorah._ Hence her appearance made him stop dead in his tracks, lips still mid-whistle, as she tilted her head at him in a birdlike manner.

It took him a second to unfreeze, but just as he was about to make one of the witty quips he was (in)famous for, Sophie hurried in, greeting her and murmuring that she had arrived earlier than expected. It bothered him unreasonably- he wished to talk to her, to find out if her laughter was just like he had imagined. But then Sophie was guiding her away, presumably to her rooms.

It was just when she had reached the bottom of the staircase that she turned to glance at him over her shoulder. One look at those forget-me-not eyes and he knew that he could wait for her.


	4. Chapter 4

**SO… Lord of Shadows came out this week! Still in denial….and tears. Kleenex did a booming business these past few days.**

 **Anyhooo…. Hope you enjoy the story! Please review, it makes my day!**

 **Disclaimer: No changes in ownership. Will let you know about further developments.**

He found himself unable to contain his growing anticipation at meeting her. He had positioned himself in the library such that he had an excellent view of the doorway. Should she choose to pass by in the hall, he would know.

 _And then do what? Accost her?_ He groaned at his own antics. This was so uncharacteristic of him. It wasn't even that he fancied the girl. _He didn't, did he? Bosh, of course he didn't! He didn't even know her, for crying out loud!_

Such were his musings as he lounged in his armchair, the _Iliad_ strewn carelessly over his lap. If he were to be honest, it was a welcome distraction from the other thoughts that plagued him incessantly- of Tessa, of Jem, and everything in between. Loving his blood-brother's betrothed ought to sicken him, but all it reminded him of was those wide grey eyes that were the answer to his every unspoken question, the key to all the recesses of his heart that he had locked away years ago.

That was how Sophie found him an hour later, head in hand, making a rather despondent picture. But when she had informed him of dinner, he had looked up with a pleasant mask sliding over his face- well, as pleasant as he could get. He had years of practice in snark, not courtesy. He was trying, though, even with the Lightworm currently residing in the bowels of the Institute. Not that Gideon was annoying; in fact, he was surprisingly likeable.

He made his way down the hallway, thrown into sharp relief by the witchlight on the walls. Raziel stared formidably down from his painting, intimidating even in the (questionable) generosity of his gifts. He pulled an irreverent face at the angel and proceeded, excitement bubbling again in his stomach at the thought of _her._

He had composed himself by the time he entered the dining room with its gas-lit chandelier. At the head of the table stood Cecily and the newcomer, deep in conversation. Whatever the latter was saying seemed to tickle his sister, for she tipped back her head and let out a free, tinkling laugh. The kind he hadn't heard from her since she came to the Institute, since they were children rolling about in the grass. It warmed him to the toes, and he found himself extremely grateful to this girl, who was doing for his sister what he couldn't do himself.

They hadn't appeared to notice his entrance and he let them be, deciding he owed his Cecily some fun. He himself had made an oversight- he now spotted Jem and Tessa seated together at the far end, small smiles gracing their features as they talked in hushed voices. Jem chose that moment to look up, and his face lit up, almost incandescent in the happiness that he derived simply from the presence of the people he loved most. Tessa followed her fiancée's gaze and connected with his. She wore the same rich blue dress she had worn the night Jem had announced their engagement and made it official. She glanced away quickly, as if she had arrived at that conclusion herself and couldn't bear to look at him anymore.

He had fought Shax demons singlehandedly, purged his innards with holy water and had his back imbedded with shards of glass. Nothing hurt more than this.

He snapped his head away and settled at his usual spot against the fireplace. Putting on his usual air of ennui, he gazed fixedly at the wall opposite him. He was so absorbed in critiquing the choice of wallpaper of Charlotte's grandmother- _old hag, wasn't overfond of her-_ that he was startled when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

It was Cecily, her cheeks flushed from laughter. At her side was her new friend, regarding him watchfully with those unforgettable eyes. He jerked his attention back to Cecily, who was giggling again.

"How you do wander off, Gwilym. I've been calling your name for the past five minutes and you haven't heard me once." Eyebrows raised for effect. "Now, I gather you haven't been introduced to Miss Morgenstern here, have you?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "She's a riot, she is."

"I'm certain she is," was his murmured reply, as Cecy pushed her forward unnecessarily. She fixed him with her unwavering, forget-me-not eyes and extended a small hand to him. It was not delicate though, he noted with interest, but scarred from handling numerous weapons. It was the hand of a Shadowhunter.

He engulfed it in his larger one and brought it to his lips in an unusual gesture. She didn't break away from his almost challenging gaze, but he felt a shudder pass through her at the chaste contact. Surprisingly, she didn't blush, but smiled. It was a smile that was mischievous and almost _roguish,_ if that could even be applied to a lady. But there was also an undercurrent of a deep, ancient sadness that permeated every aspect of life. He once again felt that jarring sensation of looking into a mirror.

"William Herondale. Will," he amended, once he had relocated his voice. He didn't bother adding that it was a pleasure to meet her- she already knew it was.

She tilted her head in that way that he had already come to associate with her.

"Evangeline Morgenstern. But I insist you stick with Eva. I am burdened with the ghastly name that my pregnancy-addled mother gave me. I can't imagine she was very sane to begin with, though, if she bore me." Her eyes danced as she rounded off the speech that sounded all too much like him.

He heard Charlotte mutter, "Oh, by the Angel, there's two of them."

 _Evangeline._ He tried it out in his head. No, it didn't sound ghastly at all. It was airy and musical, a wisp of a breath, like she was. Something not quite earthly.

No, it suited her just perfectly.

 **I debated with the idea of making Eva a Montclaire or a Rosewain, but in the end, it was Morgenstern that stuck. I guess that having some canonical characters close to that that time period- Roderick and Amalia Morgenstern- helped.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hot off the presses!**

 **I want to make a shout-out here to amgs, the fabulous reviewer who got me off my ass and compelled me to write the next chapter with her kind words.**

 **Disclaimer: I can only wish.**

* * *

He was such an enigma.

Evangeline knew that she herself was no less mysterious- in fact, she had a penchant for going out of her way to be shadowy. It lent her a sphinx-like charm that was much like her mother's. That was nearly all that she remembered of her mother- a woman who kept fierce love and secrecy in synergy in her nature. And if there was anyone Eva wished to be like, it was her mother.

But William Herondale was another matter. She could see that he had just emerged from a lifetime of keeping secrets. Everyone had demons beneath the roads they walked; she herself had many. But his were closer to the surface than most. It left him with a battle of wills that was impossible to win.

It seemed that he recognized she was the same way.

He kept glancing at her all through dinner. They weren't seated next to each other, or even across the table. She was sitting between his bold, fiery sister and the grave-faced girl who had introduced herself as Tessa Gray. Across from her was the parabatai, Jem Carstairs, whom she had often heard mentioned in pitying undertones.

The two had introduced themselves politely. Before Tessa had started an unexpected barrage of questions- " _Pardon me, but I am too inquisitive for my own good"_ \- Jem had given her a peculiar look from under his silvery hair. It didn't take her long to understand that it stemmed from the strange non-interactions she had had with Will all these years. She wondered if they had ever talked about her.

She had also met with Henry Branwell, Charlotte Branwell's eccentric husband, and Gideon Lightwood, another new resident of the Institute. He had been the one she was the least eager to meet, recalling him to be a prejudiced, uncouth kind of boy. It appeared though, that he had changed for the better, if his defection from the family was anything to go by. He nodded sympathetically at her, probably the only one beside Charlotte to know why she was here.

Dinner had been so, with her conversing with the girls and Will joking with his parabatai. There was a tinge of familiarity to their banter that was only born out of years of having each other's' backs. She couldn't help but envy them.

She had answered Tessa's questions a bit evasively. She could see that her convoluted replies frustrated the girl a little, but she wasn't about to give out her life story to someone she had just met. Especially when the girl in question was reluctant to speak much about herself and the rumours running rife about her.

Even while engrossed in separate conversations, she had felt his gaze on her. She had to restrain herself from catching it every time. They were yet to have a proper conversation. It was selfish of her, but she wanted the two of them to be alone. There was an inexplicable magnetism between the two of them that they needed to figure out.

It was with that thought in mind that she went to bed early, declining the girls' offer to chat in the parlour. William had followed her with his eyes as she left. She had mused if his feet would follow suit, but they didn't. So, she returned to her chambers, undressed and lay down, waiting for the sleep that would not come easily.

* * *

Dawn broke out over London, turning the murky waters of the Thames golden. Inside the Institute, the newest resident strode out of her room, donned in training gear.

Eva had always been an early riser, regardless of how late she slept. Today was no exception. She had barely snatched an hour of sleep before greying light streamed thought the windows. Even that had been fitful, and she had woken tangled in her sheets and sweating profusely.

Bliss tended to evade her.

She paused at the foot of the staircase, unsure as to where the training room. Tessa had promised to show her around today- Cecily being a newcomer herself. She could go and ask Sophie, who was likely to be awake, but she decided to take her chances. She had been here, after all, even if it was years ago.

The corridor on the right led to the dining room. It was likely that the training room was this way too. She stalked down, trying a few locked doorknobs until she came across an open doorway.

It was the Institute's library. It was famed for its large collection, and the reports had not been exaggerated. Eva stepped inside, instantly awashed with the vellichor. It was an old, familiar smell that she associated with her father. All that was missing was the faint whiff of tobacco and pine...

"I must confess," came a drawling voice from behind her, "that I never imagined our first meeting happening while you smelled books."

She spun around to see Will leaning against the doorframe, hands in pockets and tongue firmly in cheek. She realized that she had unkowingly picked up a book and had buried her nose in it, seeking elusive comfort.

A teasing smile made its way onto her face. "Does that mean you've imagined our first meeting a lot?"

He grinned, too, but did not reply. "I suppose you are fond of books, then?"

She set the book back down. "Not as much as I should be, I suppose," she admitted ruefully. "I just love their scent. As you can see," she gestured to herself, "I intended to train but got sidetracked."

"Fortunate, that," came his reply, suddenly making her throat go dry.

* * *

He trailed his eyes over her form leisurely. She was as petite as he remembered, but had grown into her figure with the years. She still wasn't the prettiest of ladies ( _certainly not as pretty as Tessa_ , his mind traitorously supplied), but she had an ethereal air about her that was couldn't be disregarded. The effect was rather...pleasing.

He caught sight of her face. His highly improper actions had been to disconcert her, to see her as unbalanced as she made him with a single glance. But just like last night, she was unfazed, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Do you see something you like, Mr. Herondale?" Her voice was a bit breathy, though, and he cheered victoriously.

"I do, actually." He pointed at the staff strapped against her back, its edge visible at her right shoulder. "Is that a bo staff?"

She smiled that mysterious smile at his reply and pulled the staff free. It was finely crafted, with the inky runes of Strength and Sure-Strike snaking around the adamas. He stepped closer to admire it, and unintentionally leaned so close that his breath stirred her hair. It was Eva who took a step back before flashing him another smile and pulling the staff.

Will started as the staff split in her hands, _with blades at the ends._ He felt his own eyebrows shoot up. _How sneaky._ It was detachable and double-bladed, deadly in battle to unknowing foes. He felt his appreciation of her increase, and he could tell she understood if her smirk was anything to go by.

"The Morgenstern staff, made by Wayland the Smith." There was a reverent note in her voice as she cradled the staff, and it made him think of Jem as he caressed his violin. "It was my aunt's before me."

"I truly hope you mean Georgiana Morgenstern. I've heard she would giggle as she stabbed and dismembered."

There was no denying it- her grin was shark-like. "She was my first instructor. Although," she added, as an afterthought, "I really thought the giggling was a bit gauche. I prefer to sing Christmas carols. Much more merry."

Well, Will always had liked women who terrified him.

* * *

 **If anyone wishes to see what Eva's staff looks like, the link is on my profile.**

 **Please review! Reviews make my world go round!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A huge thank you to amgs for her review!**

 **Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

* * *

Will liked Eva's laughter.

It wasn't too rich or mellifluous. Her breath caught often as she laughed and her volume was best not mentioned. But unlike the rest of her, her laughter was unrestrained- it bounced off the library's walls, unashamed. He figured that this was perhaps the most open he had ever seen her.

Not to mention that seeing her like that, with her head thrown back and brown tendrils of hair brushing her cheek was…oddly peaceful. Her blue eyes seemed to blaze even brighter in the golden-yellow rays...

 _Wait, rays?_

Will craned his neck over the armchair he was sitting in to look out of the window. The library faced north, so sunlight only entered after nine in the morning. They had been talking for nearly four hours.

"I'm afraid I have been a bad influence on you, Miss Morgenstern," he commented, turning to her with a straight face. "I have already made you late for breakfast on your first day here and kept you from your training, as well. Continue staying in my company and you might be visiting dens of vice by the end of the week."

Eva shot him an amused look. "And what makes you think I haven't already been in one, Mr Herondale?"

Will's eyebrow seemed to jump up of its own accord. "Dear me, and here I thought you were a respectable young lady."

"Oh, no," Eva whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'm quite the worldly woman. But don't go about telling anyone that, I may be ruined."

"I know of better ways to be ruined."

Will realized his words a split-second too late. _What in the name of Raziel was he doing?!_ He had just made an implied proposition to Eva! For all of his impropriety, this was absolutely abhorrent! He had implied that she was nothing more than a common prostitute!

She regarded him with the same amusement that she had earlier, though. Will would have thought she was completely unaffected were it not for the light pink dusting across her cheeks. He breathed an internal sigh of relief and opened his mouth to say something- anything, really- when she beat him to it.

"You are in love with Tessa Gray, aren't you?"

His brain froze as he stared at Eva. Her smile was gone, replaced by a solemn look. Her head was once again tilted in that bird-like manner as she waited patiently for his reply. He could tell that while the timing may have been accidental, the words were not.

Unexpectedly, rage started to bubble in his chest. The heat crawled up his neck and along his arms. All he could think about was that this wisp of a girl, who had haunted his dreams for years, had effortlessly uncovered his deepest, most loathsome secret. The secret he had worked so hard to bury. He had even thought himself successful in this painful endeavour, until she unravelled everything.

His mask of cold indifference slid into place with ease. "I wouldn't presume to know me, Eva," he said, his voice stony, before he turned on his heel and left the library.

The last image he had of her as he left was nonplussing. She didn't look pitying or revolted or even hurt. Instead, a sad smile played on her lips, as if saying to him, ' _Oh, but William, I do know you.'_

* * *

Eva knew she'd hit the nerve.

Her first impression of him was infallibly correct- he had demons. And those very demons were the shadows that defined his every sunny day. He loathed himself; it was written all over his face. Or maybe not- she had just recognized a kindred spirit.

They had talked on all topics under the sun- books, weapons, his fear of ducks and her fear of fish- but the darkness that drew them together. As they conversed, Eva gleaned just how much Will loved his parabatai, Jem. Yet he seemed to avoid the topic of Tessa Gray most ardently. Knowing the kind of person Will was, she knew he would never let Jem settle for anyone unworthy. This meant that he most certainly did not disapprove of Tessa. Yet he was discomfited at the mention of her…

It was only logical. Will would despise himself for loving his parabatai's fiancée, and would try to suppress his feelings for her. And as she thought more about it, the more reasonable it seemed- his deliberate distance from the couple before dinner, the tell-tale dark circles from sleepless nights and Cecily's tentative looks between Tessa and her brother. The answer took a while to click, but it did, and she had to fight to keep the comprehension from dawning on her face.

Then he had made that suggestive comment to her. It had shaken her a bit, but when she recalled her previous deductions, she had sobered instantly. He was in love with another woman, and she was not about to become his distraction, whether he intended so or not.

And so, she blurted it out. Rather tactlessly, if she was being honest. She hadn't meant for it to happen- she knew quite well how upset she would be if an acquaintance of a few hours had just unearthed her darkest truths. Then again, it felt like they had known each other for a lifetime, and that it was only right to ask him in this manner.

She couldn't fault him for his curtness and his abrupt departure. She was, however, a tiny bit disappointed in him. Tessa Gray had duende, that much was certain, but she was also rather easy to fall for. Somehow, she had expected Will to be different because he had seen her- the blunt, rebellious girl with the body of a child- when no one had.

 _'Well, it appeared she had too good an impression of someone, for a change. It was healthy to be wrong once in a while,'_ she mused with an amusement she did not quite feel as the sun burnt patterns across her closed eyelids.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

**This is my longest chapter yet- which is not a tall order, to be honest. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: There's a reason this is called** ** _fan_** **fiction.**

* * *

If there was one word that Will had to use to describe Eva, it would be 'ephemeral'. She was as fleeting as sunshine in London. Over the years, he had come to know that this was her way. She would manifest out of nothingness, knock the wind out of him, and vanish just as mysteriously. Despite this, he was rather taken aback to see her perched on the chest against Jem's bed when he entered his _parabatai_ 's room.

Two heads swiveled to look at him. They appeared to have been interrupted in an intense discussion, despite Jem's easy smile and Eva's knowing head-tilt. His first, most terrifying thought was that she had come to tell Jem about his love for Tessa. Or worse, that she already had. But upon closer inspection, he realized that although their subject may have been impassioned, they both seemed completely at ease. The knot of worry in his chest eased a little.

"The bad penny finally turned up, didn't he?" Jem asked, his voice lilting. "Where on earth have you been, Will?"

Will swallowed, resisting the urge to glance at Eva. "Oh, just here and about. Met a rather fascinating Frenchwoman. Madeleine, I think her name was. Very enchanteur." He collapsed on the bed beside Jem, keeping his eyes trained on his brother the entire time.

He had meandered aimlessly through the streets of London from morning to evening, glamoured to the mundane gaze. The abhorrent, tinny voice of his conscience had chided him for his discourteous manner towards Eva, warring all the time with his own loathing. Having arrived well past dinner once again, he had swiped a few bites from the larder and come to his parabatai.

"I'm sure," was Jem's amused reply. Will extricated a cashew nut from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, feigning nonchalance as he queried. "Are you of the habit of inviting all the new residents of the Institute to your rooms, James? Or is it only the women? I'm sure Gideon Lightworm will be mightily disappointed."

Jem opened his mouth, probably to admonish him, when Eva beat him to it. "Jem was kind enough to allow me to voice my poorly furnished opinions on Bach. He even played his violin."

Will cursed he internally for compelling him to look at her. He did so, anyhow, meeting her unwavering- _blazing-_ eyes with his own emotionless ones. "And did you find our musical prodigy to your tastes, Miss Morgenstern?"

"Ah, quite so. I am now incredibly jealous of Tessa," she flashed Jem a smile at that, but Will could see that his pointed addressal of her formal name had not gone unnoticed by her.

Jem laughed, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two. "Eva is in no way poorly furnished with knowledge when it comes to music. In truth, I have actually learned much about Bach from her. Does your German heritage have some bearing on this?"

Eva nodded, even that single movement as fluid as water. "Quite astute of you, Mr Carstairs. My father insisted upon my cultural training, but it wasn't limited to German culture. Ballet, painting, embroidery- I am a veritable mine of feminine pursuits." Her mouth twisted into a mocking expression.

 _Ballet._ Perhaps that was the reason she appeared so comfortable in her own skin, Will contemplated even as he snorted at the slight derision in her tone. She grinned at him at the noise, and his resentment towards her ebbed slightly. Who else but she could have understood his innermost self?

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She had never been one for tip-toeing.

Although she regretted having been so boorish in realizing Will's secret, she would not have been able to walk on eggshells around him for too long. For all her mysterious nature, she could be alarmingly straightforward. Which was why she hoped Will wouldn't take it too harshly- it was simply her nature.

Her little tête-à-tête with Jem had been fueled by the purpose of understanding Will better. No one could claim Evangeline Rosalind Morgenstern to be unversed with the art of subtlety- the entire time, she was delicately steering the conversation towards Will. Jem didn't seem to notice, but was more than content to talk about his _parabatai._ And in the course of two hours, she had learnt about his loathing for ducks, his ardent love for books and his considerable mastery over the broadsword. _Perhaps one of these days she would spar with him._ She had always loved seeing the shock on her opponent's face as they fell, dumbstruck at being defeated by a chit of a girl.

But Jem had no idea about Will and Tessa, which made her wonder if Will's feelings were even slightly reciprocated. It wouldn't be too hard to fall for Will- he was witty, challenging and had the features of a Greek god. And for all of Jem's virtues, Eva couldn't help but marvel at the fact that Tessa saw him past Will. Even if she hadn't shared this strange, bewildering connection with him, it would have been Will she would have chosen. Although, she suspected, her reasons would have been vastly different.

She traced his features with her gaze now as he louched on Jem's bed, seemingly unconcerned. His mouth was still tightly drawn and his eyes far away. Her eyes then flitted to the silver-haired boy, who was regarding her curiously. Unembarassed at being caught, she flashed him a Mona Lisa smile. What did the _parabatai_ think of them? She was such a puzzle in Will's life- not his friend, his lover or even his acquaintance. Just a girl who shared an inexplicable connection with him. Did he find it an infringement on his existing bond with Will?

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Tessa Gray didn't quite know how she felt about the new girl. Evangeline Morgenstern was delightful and entertaining at the dinner table, but the shape-shifter had a suspicion that there was much more to her than that. She wasn't as flippant and carefree as she gave out. Not to forget that when she mentioned the girl to Jem the morning after, a peculiar expression came over his face as he murmured that it was better to talk to Will about her.

 _Why Will? How did he know her?_ There seemed to be no such indication of the sort at their first dinner- the only meal where she'd seen Will and Eva together. It wasn't as if she could ask Will herself, she had thought mournfully. And Jem had been ensconced in his bedchamber with the very girl, discussing music and composers, subjects she had woefully inadequate knowledge on. Cheeks warm with embarassment, Tessa had slipped out, unnoticed.

Finally, her burning curiosity won out and she strode down the hall to her fiancé, deciding that he, at least, owed her some answers. Eva couldn't have been in there for so long, anyhow. As she neared his door, light spillng out from underneath the wood, she could hear an unexpected voice. _Will._ Her heart leapt in her throat at the thought of the Welshman as she pushed the door open.

It was evident that she had walked in on a joke of some kind. Jem was chuckling, even as Will threw his head back and _laughed._ That was astonishing enough for her, when she saw Eva _still_ there, breathless laughs escaping her. An odd, prickling sensation overcame her as she realised just how much the girl looked like she belonged there, her oddly blue eyes sparkling in the firelight at Will.

"Tessa," came Jem's startled exclamation upon noticing her standing there. The other two dark heads swiveled towards her, and Tessa noted, with a sinking heart, the animation on Will's face fade into a stony mask. She tore her gaze back to her fiancé, plastering on a smile.

"I didn't know you weren't alone. I just came by to talk." She glanced a bit too pointedly at Eva here. The girl, to her credit, still looked on with the same aloof amusement.

"Ah, how reprehensible of me to cleave the lovebirds apart so. I'll take my gracious leave, now," She stood and waved away Jem's protests, arching a single eyebrow at Tessa as she passed by her to pause at the doorway.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Jem. It was very stimulating. And William," she added, her voice mirthful, "I truly hope to meet the lovely Madeleine someday." With a parting- and audacious- wink at the company, she waltzed out. Will followed not long after, muttering something unintelligible, leaving Tessa wondering...

 _Who was Madeleine?_

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 **The stories say that if you drop a review, she will update faster.**


	8. Chapter 8

**GAH! Sorry for making you guys wait, especially the guest reviewers. Life has been a bit crazy at the moment with two examinations back-to-back and I haven't found any time to update. But fear not- the next chapter is here! Aaaand...we've entered the Clockwork Princess timeline!**

 **I'll have you know that this fic is unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are mine. If someone is interested to be my beta, kindly PM me.**

 **The other day I was thinking about a fancast for Eva and I imagined it to be somewhere between Kristina Romanova (from Avicii's Wake Me Up) and Emily Rudd. You can check their photos out and tell me what you think!**

 **Thank you so much to Guest and bunny queen for their reviews!**

 **Disclaimer: You guys are too smart to believe that I'm Cassandra Clare.**

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Eva was settling in comfortably at the Institute. Her days had formed a pattern of sorts. In the morning, she would spar with Cecily, whose brother was unaware of her secret training sessions before dawn. After breakfast, the two would explore the Institute, its endless rooms holding much charm for the inquisitive girls. Tessa had politely declined the invitation to join them on the first day, which Eva suspected was the result of her own presence. After Cecily departed for her official training, Eva would depart for a stroll through London. If she just happened upon her father's grave while outside, it was simply a coincidence.

In the evenings, she liked to withdraw to her chambers, where she would invariably be joined by Will. He would turn up sometime after supper, always entering without knocking and appearing for the world as if he had been dragged through the gutter. Some nights he would be itching to talk- mostly making jokes at the expense of the Council- but on others, he would be mutinously silent. This routine of theirs had sprung up after the night in Jem's room, when he had followed her to her bedroom and stayed. That night, neither had talked, Eva in an armchair, Will by the fireplace, and had simply _been._ Two dented- if not damaged- souls drinking in the comfort of being with someone who understood the pain, unquestionably and unconditionally.

Eva found herself looking forward to these meetings with an intensity that bordered on dangerous. She knew she had come to care for Will- _damn it_ , she was not _falling_ for him- and that thought alone scared her. What happened when he realized that she was not what he wanted, what he needed? Because she truly wasn't. He both wanted and needed a girl like Tessa Gray, whole and pure and radiant in her goodness. Someone who could heal him, wipe the lines away from his broken visage. He certainly didn't need her, shadows and darkness that she was.

 _Perhaps she was going a little too far with the self-pity,_ Eva mused as she turned the corner to the Institute. She had just returned from her daily stroll, expecting to find the Institute undisturbed as ever. The sight that greeted her, though, was far from it.

The doors were flung wide open. Beyond it, she could hear a hubbub of exclamations even as she rushed her steps, taking note of the Lightwood carriage out front. She slipped through the entryway, jolting when she saw the blood-soaked boy leaning against the wall right beside her. Clustered around him were Charlotte and Gideon, the latter talking to him in hushed voices. At the stairs stood the rest of the occupants, their own confusion bleeding through. She began to sidle up to Will with the intent of gathering some information, when Gideon suddenly turned and announced, "Chiswick, We must go. Gabriel and I, if no one else."

 _Ah. This was the prat she had mercilessly pranked that Christmas ball,_ Eva smirked as she craned her neck to see him around Gideon's broad frame. The younger Lightwood was a tall, lanky boy with tousled brown hair and green eyes. If it weren't for the blood smeared across his face, Eva supposed he might be rather good-looking as well.

It was such a shame when beauty was wasted on utter garbage.

"Go alone?" Tessa responded. It was only then that she noticed Tessa was in a golden dress- her wedding dress. She must have come right from her fitting. No wonder Will was avoiding her eyes so determinedly. "But why would you not call upon others to come with you-"

Will interrupted her, but Eva had had enough. She tapped Cecily on the shoulder who jumped upon seeing her appear out of thin air. "What in the name of Raziel is going on here?" the girl murmured, her eyes trained on the scene. Cecily looked baffled as she replied, but her words made more sense to Eva. "It appears that Gideon's father has demon pox and has turned into a giant worm?"

 _Oh. Bugger._

Eva wanted to giggle at her own pun, when Jem stepped forward, volunteering their services to the Lightwood brothers. Bridget was already at hand with gear in her arms, and then there was a scramble for it as everyone dashed to put it on and arm themselves. There erupted a squabble between the Herondale siblings when Cecily protested her right to go, but Eva had long since deserted her to pull on a gear jacket. The Morgenstern staff was, as always, strapped to her back, so she was more than ready to accompany the others.

She locked eyes with a disgruntled Will, who seemed to have lost the fight with Cecily. His shoulders were tensed, probably with worry for his sister and Tessa, who was determined to come along. What for, Eva couldn't say. It wasn't as if Tessa was trained well enough to fight a demon. 'But then, she was extremely nosy', the Morgenstern girl thought with a hint of spite. Then she sighed at herself. _Acting jealous because Will loved Tessa and not her? How common._

Cyril burst in to announce that the carriage was ready and then they were all piling out and into the said carriage. _Hey ho, off to Chiswick we go._

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 **Sorry to leave it here, but I wanted the next chapter purely from Will's perspective, so this needed to break here. I'm really trying to make my chapters longer and update faster.**

 **Please review! It'll take a minute of your time and make my day!**


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